


Impact

by Merfilly



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Gen, War Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 17:22:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl sees the results of war at a visceral level</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impact

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hellkitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellkitty/gifts).



War necessitated destruction. Their race was locked in a war that could not end until one side destroyed the other. Ergo, Prowl's life was to make war as pragmatically as possible.

While serving Megatron, he had rarely seen the results of a battle, prized more for his gift of strategy than for leading from the front lines.

That changed when he came to the Autobots, and he was directed to be an officer of the line. Nor did the destruction in the battle truly concern him, as he accepted it as part of the means.

No, it was the first time he was in medical after a costly disaster he had failed to properly plan for, that Prowl truly saw the pain and suffering that married to the destruction of their kind. He let a junior technician reattach his hand, while the keens and whines of failing systems echoed around him. He forced himself to see the mangled mass of metal that some reached medical as. He listened, hearing a mech plead with a medic to donate his frame to his comrades, knowing he was facing deactivation and wanting them to survive.

All of it impacted Prowl's awareness at once, until he had to offline his optics and audials rather than short out his processor.

When the technician was done with him, he rose, leaving the chaos that was medical, to go to the small shrine that reminded them of their connectivity to the AllSpark. He stood before the imagery on the dais, struggling to find the words.

"I must be better," he whispered. "I keep failing. They suffer when I do. I am sorry." His head bowed in shame, as he offered his entire existence to atoning for not being good enough to end the war once and for all, to atone for every death that came from his poor planning.


End file.
